


Stupid Onions

by raisedtokeepquiet



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Ermal is a mess, Happy ending though, M/M, One Shot, Pining, a lot of emotions, a lot of it, brief mention of self harm, like the thought is contemplated and discarded immediately, of course, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 08:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16059125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedtokeepquiet/pseuds/raisedtokeepquiet
Summary: Ermal is sitting at Fabrizio's kitchen table, just thinking about his evening, that he spent with Libero and Anita, thinking about how he would like to have all of this, forever. But surely, that will never be. Right?





	Stupid Onions

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I have a thing for Ermal crying at kitchen tables. Oh well. I needed some cute comforting!Fabri tonight, so here he is :) Please let me know your thoughts, I really love each and every comment I get!

Ermal was sitting at Fabrizio’s kitchen table, lost in thought.

He had spent the weekend in Rome together with Fabrizio, as he’d done before. Quite a few times, actually. But something was different this time. Of course, in particular, one very big thing was different. This was the first stay at Fabrizio’s place after Ermal had realized that maybe he didn’t see him as just a friend. That he didn’t just want the occasional phone calls, the tight but too platonic hugs, the sleep overs but only in the guest room… He wanted more, he wanted different things than that.

That realization had hit him like a shock, of course it had. But it had also felt right. If anyone, it would be Fabrizio, of course it would be Fabrizio. It would always be Fabrizio.

He hadn’t told Fabrizio. He didn’t know how, it would come as a thunderstorm in a clear sky. And why take the chance of ruining everything they had, when it was already so special? No, there was absolutely no need to tell Fabrizio. He didn’t want to be so needy, this, just this, could be enough, of course it could.

Still, it had left his nerves a bit frayed. It took so much energy, trying to contain his every reflex to touch, to say, to linger, to look, to imagine… To hope, too. Hope that one day Fabrizio might have a similar realization, hope that one day this family life with the children and the house and the garden would be his to keep, instead for just a stolen weekend here and there. Hope that he could have more in life than this – or rather, that he could have _this_ for the rest of his life.

Another thing that was different this time, is that Fabrizio had had a meeting and he hadn’t been able to find a babysitter. So he had asked, hesitatingly, so hesitatingly, as if it was the biggest inconvenience in the world, if maybe Ermal might want to look after Libero and Anita. Just for the evening. He had looked so apologetic, so ready to accept a _no_ , already going over other possible solutions. Because he did not want Ermal to feel like he had to accept, like he was just there because he was useful and nothing else, because he didn’t want to make Ermal do anything he didn’t want. The children were his responsibility, not Ermal’s.

Of course, Ermal accepted, quickly, without hesitation, touched by this display of friendship and familiarity and _trust_. His heart beat in his chest, trying to contain all the emotions he felt, as he reassured Fabrizio that no, it was not any trouble, no, he did not mind, no, it was not too much to ask, and yes, he was sure.

So this afternoon, Fabrizio had told the children that he had to leave tonight, but that Ermal would make sure they had dinner (well, Ermal would make sure that the meal Fabrizio had already prepared was heated up and ready to eat) and went to bed on time. Ermal was a bit worried about Libero and Anita’s reaction, what if they hated to spend time with him alone, what if they would beg their dad not to go, not to leave them, what if he would ruin everything?

But that didn’t happen. Libero didn’t blink twice upon hearing it, and Anita beamed up at Ermal and asked, “Will you then read my bedtime story?”

Ermal replied that of course he would, and then couldn’t help but smile, smile the brightest smile. Because the children didn’t mind him being here, being part of such an intimate ritual as bed time. He caught Fabrizio’s eye, and the soft smile that met him, eyes full of admiration, was almost enough to make his heart stop. How he wanted this, everything of this, not just for one night as a last resort because the babysitter couldn’t make it… He wanted this to be his forever.

His heart clenched at the thought that it wasn’t, and even despite his happiness of having it now, he had to swallow down that sadness, that bittersweet sadness of experiencing exactly what his dreams were like in real life, and it was real, but it wasn’t enough. And that hurt. That hurt, even though it made him happy too. Because he still had this. All these conflicted feelings fought within him, and he couldn’t figure it out, not now, not here.

So yes, the whole thing had left him rather emotional and… fragile, in a way. Being a part of this family like this, being around Fabrizio all the time like this, wanting to memorize every single moment, while trying not to show how much he felt, how much he _wanted_ and _hoped_.

And then the evening, spending time with Libero, watching Anita’s favourite TV show, then the pleas to stay up a bit longer, the smiles and hugs when he allowed them, how sweet they’d both been when he told them it was really time to sleep now. He had read Anita her bedtime story, and sung her a song because she asked for it, and she had fallen asleep with a smile on her face. Ermal felt tears coming up at the sight of her, lying there so small, so innocent, so happy. He softly brushed some hair from her forehead and tucked in the blanket around her. After one last look, he got up and left the night light on, left the door open on a crack and leaned against the wall to compose himself.

It was too much, everything was so intense, how was everything so intense? After a few more deep breaths, he made his way downstairs again, where he found Libero in much the same position as he left him, which was on the couch in front of the TV, watching a football match. Ermal joined him, checked the time that was left and decided he would allow the boy to stay up for the end. Fabrizio would be home later anyway, and the next day was Sunday when they could all sleep in. It would do no harm.

Half-time came and went, and Libero looked at Ermal, questioningly, as he knew this was his bedtime, he had been right there when Fabrizio had reminded Ermal. But Ermal ignored it, and just started talking about the match, the players, the goals. And Libero responded, at first a bit shyly, but then when Ermal kept going and didn’t mention bedtime at all, Libero was much more enthusiastic, sure now, that he could watch the whole match.

Could, technically, but didn’t, because towards the end, fifteen minutes left on the clock, he yawned more and more, and after a bit, Ermal felt a little head settle on his arm. He peered over and yes, it had seemed Libero had fallen asleep. Right there, next to him. Not minding him, trusting him, even. Ermal felt his heart swell, and once more he felt like crying. This was everything he had never expected to have, right here.

Softly, he woke Libero up, just enough to get him upstairs, quickly brush some teeth, change into pyjamas, and get into bed. Ermal tucked the boy in, and then, just before he fell asleep again, Ermal heard Libero mumble, “Thank you Ermal, it’s so nice when you’re here.”

So that left Ermal there sitting at the kitchen table, the only one awake in a house with two sleeping children. Trying to process everything he was feeling. Trying, and failing, because that feeling of wanting to cry had not left him. Everything was just so much. There was so much trust, so much love, and he wasn’t sure if he deserved this all.

But he _liked_ it. He wanted to keep this. But he couldn’t.

And that thought did it, now he _was_ crying. There were too many emotions, still, fighting for attention. Too many hopes and wishes and dreams that would never be. He had this, yes, but was it going to be enough? Wasn’t this just going to hurt so much more in the end? This taste of what it could be? It was like just a drop of water when you’d been wandering the desert for weeks. Sweet in the moment, but afterwards when it was gone, everything was so much worse than before.

He sat there, who knew how long, crying. Trying to stop it, because it was a truly ridiculous situation, him sitting there, at his best friend’s kitchen table, two sweet sleeping children upstairs, nothing was technically wrong, but he was crying, because it wasn’t _right_ either.

Then, to his horror he heard a car drive up to the house and stop. Fabrizio was home. He could not see him like this, he had no explanation whatsoever. At least, not one he could give Fabrizio. Not without this turning sour immediately. And that was something he definitely could not handle, not after a day like today, after an evening like this one, a perfect evening like this one. A perfect evening, even though the perfect man wasn’t there.

What should he do? He had been crying, that would be clear no matter what he did. Fabrizio wouldn’t be satisfied with a vague explanation, he would want to talk about it. He would want to help, and even if he would let it be if Ermal asked, he would surely keep thinking about this, wondering what he’d done wrong, worrying, trying to find ways to subtly ask about it anyway. Could he think of any excuses? Why did people cry? Allergies? He didn’t think Fabrizio would believe him, he’d seen him with an allergic reaction once when there’d been a cat around, and Fabrizio would know the difference between crying and a full on allergic reaction.

In despair, he looked around the kitchen, trying to find any ideas there. His eyes landed on the knifes for a second, crying would be an understandable reaction if he’d cut himself, right? But no, no, he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t hurt himself on purpose like that, not to only evade some questions. Not for any reason at all, he was rather shocked at himself for event thinking it.

His eyes roamed further through the kitchen, surely he didn’t have a lot of time anymore, Fabrizio would be here any second now – there! The solution! The perfect solution for his problem. Yes. Everything would be okay now.

“Ermal? I’m home!”

“Ermal?”

“Why are you sitting here – Ermal? Why are you crying? Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Ermal sniffed, “I’m just cutting onions.”

He pointed at the cutting board in front of him. It was a genius solution. People cried while cutting onions. That was all this was.

“Onions? Ermal, it’s half past ten in the evening. Also, you don’t cook. Why on earth are you cutting onions?”

“Oh, well… Um…”

Maybe there was a small flaw in his plan. He had found a plausible reason for crying, yes, but not a plausible reason for cutting onions.

“Ermal, what is going on?”

Fabrizio handed Ermal a tissue and put a glass of water in front of him, took the onions and the cutting board away and then sat down across from him.

“Ermal? Did everything go all right? Did something happen? Are the children okay? You know you could have called me, if anything happened, or if it was too much, or you needed me to come home, you know that, right?”

“Yes, no, yes! I mean, the children are fine, completely fine, everything went well, they were so good and they’re sleeping now, the children are perfectly all right, that’s not it!”

“Then what is it?”

Ermal was silent, he had already said too much with that “that’s not it”, because with that he’d clearly admitted that it was, in fact, something else.

“Ermal, tell me, what is all this about?”

Ermal sipped his water, trying to give himself a little more time, his mind racing through possibilities of what he could say, anything that might satisfy Fabrizio enough to leave this alone, and to not worry. He didn’t find anything, of course he didn’t find anything, he’d been over this before the onions.

Stupid onions. Hadn’t helped at all.

Fabrizio just sat there, patiently waiting, watching his every movement. Ermal felt rather as if he could see into his soul. He was comforted by the thought that he couldn’t, because if Fabrizio knew what was happening in his soul, he would not be sitting there so calmly. There were several possibilities of what would happen, but nothing would be calm.

Either Fabrizio hated everything about what Ermal was thinking, wishing, hoping for. He was still Fabrizio, he would surely let him down easy. Say that they could still be friends, still work together, but Ermal knew better. Slowly, the distance would grow between them, as would the time between their phone calls. No more visits like these, no longer would he be a part of the family like this. – But if he knew, Fabrizio wouldn’t be sitting there like that, across from him, his face open, slightly worried, watching him. Instead, he would be closed off, trying to put the distance into everything he did, making it clear that there would never be anything than _friendship_ , until even that withered and died.

Another possibility, small as it was, was that Fabrizio returned his feelings. Of course he wouldn’t, but Ermal let himself imagine that, for a tiny moment, just enough to make his heart hurt some more. In that case, he surely would not be calmly sitting there. No, Ermal imagined, neither of them would be sitting in the kitchen. Wasn’t it a full moon outside? Why not stand in the garden, whispering sweet words full of love to each other, getting closer and closer to each other, until they touched, until their lips touched… –

“Ermal? Come on, talk to me, you worry me.”

Ermal felt a blush coming up. How could he even think of things like that, right now, right here, in this situation? Did he know no shame?

“I don’t want to talk about it. Everything is fine.”

Fabrizio stared at him, and Ermal carefully evaded his gaze. Eye contact surely would not help him right now.

“It doesn’t look fine to me. Please, Ermal, tell me. Surely I can help. Or at least listen, you don’t have to do everything alone, you know. If it’s not the children, is it your family? Are they all right?”

“Oh yes, all is well. Like I said, nothing bad happened, it’s not –” Ermal shut his mouth again, not knowing what to tell Fabrizio exactly. It was a lot of things that it was not. But Fabrizio didn’t want to know what it wasn’t, he wanted to know what it _was_. And Ermal couldn’t tell him.

Or could he? Not everything, of course not everything, _especially_ not everything, but just part of it? Wasn’t that what they said? Don’t lie, but tell part of the truth? He could do that.

“It’s not… I’m not sad. I’m not crying because I’m sad.”

“But then why are you crying?”

“It’s just, I can’t believe you… trusted me enough to leave me with Libero and Anita. And they didn’t mind either. And Anita was so sweet with her story and she asked me to sing to her. And she fell asleep with a smile, Bizio, a _smile_ , even though I was there. _Because_ I was there. It just means so much to me… And Libero, just before he fell asleep he said he liked having me around. I just… can’t believe that I can have all this, all these good things.”

“Oh, Ermal.”

Ermal looked up at that, something about Fabrizio’s tone of voice was not right, not as it always was, and it worried him, had he said something wrong? Was Fabrizio angry now? But he looked up, and saw tears in Fabrizio’s eyes, falling as he blinked.

“Fabri? Why are you crying?”

Instead of answering, Fabrizio got up, stood in front of Ermal, and tugged him up by his shoulders.

“Ermal, you can’t say such things and expect me to be unaffected. Come here. You deserve all this, and more. You deserve all good things in the world, you truly do.”

As he said this, Fabrizio wrapped Ermal up in one of those hugs of his, one of those amazing hugs, warm and tight, and comforting, and safe, and Ermal felt better, so much better. He felt like home, he felt like he could take on the whole world, he could, and he would win. He could live with only _this_ , and nothing else, and he would be – maybe not happy, but he would have a good life. Yes. He felt better now.

At least, until he heard Fabrizio say the next words.

“And of course I trust you with Libero and Anita. I have seen you around them, you’re doing a wonderful job, and I am so grateful. And of course they don’t mind having you here, they like you. Surely, you know that. They _love_ you. Like _I_ love you, Ermal. You always have a place here, if you want it.”

Ermal froze, still wrapped up in Fabrizio’s arms. He tensed up, and froze, and did not feel better anymore. In fact, he felt worse. A lot worse. Hearing Fabrizio say those words, it had been everything he had needed, had wanted to hear. But not like this, never like this.

Like this, it was not enough. Like this, it was nothing more than a mocking echo of what it could be, of what he wanted it to be. And it hurt. Oh, how it hurt.

“Ermal, what’s wrong? Was it what I said? Was it too much?”

_No, it wasn’t enough_.

Fabrizio took Ermal by his shoulders to put some distance between them, never breaking that contact, and looked at his face.

“Oh no, please don’t cry again, please.”

Ermal couldn’t stand his tone, his pleas. He also couldn’t stop crying, not now, so he did the only thing he could think of. He let himself fall back into Fabrizio’s arms, sure that they would catch him. And they did. And he breathed in Fabrizio’s familiar smell. He closed his eyes, he knew he could not leave it like this. He couldn’t.

So he whispered, “I love you too”, and tried to put all his feelings, all his _meaning_ into those four simple words. He just hoped Fabrizio would understand that he meant so much more with it. He meant everything with it.

“Ermal?” came a soft, whispered response, and Ermal had no clue what Fabrizio was thinking. None. Everything was uncertain, balanced on the edge of a sword. But he might as well go all the way now. So much to lose, but there would be certainty then, wouldn’t there?

“Oh Bizio, I do. I don’t just love being here, or being around the children, or spending time with you. I love you. In every sense of the word you can possibly think of. And I know you don’t – ” Here Ermal stopped, choked up, his voice not cooperating at all. He couldn’t say this, it would make it real in a way that it wasn’t before, in a way that it would surely be in just a minute, when Fabrizio would tell him himself. Ermal tried to curl in on himself, tried to disappear, tried to make himself smaller, as if it would help with the hurt (it never did, he should know that, it never had).

Of course, he was still wrapped up tight in Fabrizio’s arms, that had been his own fault, falling back into them like the safe haven that they were. Or used to be. But wrapped up as he was there was nowhere for him to go. Nowhere, he had to stay, and wait what would happen.

“Ermal, but I do.”

His mind playing tricks, was what happened. Hadn’t he hurt enough already, tonight? Wouldn’t it already hurt enough, the coming days, weeks? He did not need any more imagined happy endings. There would be no happy ending.

“Ermal, please, say something. I love you too, in every sense of the word. _Every single one_.”

Or would there?

Slowly, Ermal untangled himself from Fabrizio’s arms, just enough so he could look at his face, at the expression he found there. Love, yes, hope, too. A hint of worry, probably explained by Ermal’s lack of reaction.

“You do?”

“Yes. How can I not? You have my heart, Ermal, it’s yours to do with as you will. I had never dared to hope that you might feel the same as I do…”

“Bizio? You know what I would like to do with your heart?”

“Tell me.”

“I would keep it, forever, carefully. Protect it, in any way that I can. Care for it better than I do for my own.”

They were quiet for a minute, standing there in the kitchen, still touching, both lost in the moment, in what it all meant. It wasn’t a full moon in a garden, but Ermal would take this over any fantasy he could conjure up. This was real. This was happening.

“Ermal?” Fabrizio’s voice was low, cracking a bit.

Ermal didn’t reply, but just looked up and met Fabrizio’s eye, unwavering. He found a little bit of courage that he hadn’t used up before, though it wasn’t really necessary, he was pretty sure about all of this right now, but still, it was nice to have, because this would change everything. This would mark a new beginning, there would be no way to pretend this hadn’t happened, no way to pretend everything had just been a misunderstanding. But Fabrizio hadn’t looked away, either, or yes, now he did, but only to drop his gaze to Ermal’s lips, and that was really wat pushed him over the edge. To do this. It would be fine. Ermal leaned in and pressed his lips to Fabrizio’s.

Softly, just softly, just waiting his reaction. He was met with a sigh, and then he felt a familiar hand settle in his curls, to keep him close, as Fabrizio changed the angle of the kiss, and deepened it. And more than the hug, this felt like coming home.

Home. Ermal was home. This was where he was meant to be. This house, this man, these children. This was everything.

They broke the kiss, breathing in the air that they so desperately needed, and once more, Ermal settled in Fabrizio’s arms, as they were still one of his favourite places to be.

“Ermal, please stay? Here, with us?”

Ermal couldn’t answer, his throat once more blocked, tears welling up in his eyes _again_ , but now because he had everything, he really had everything he had ever needed, had ever wanted. He had everything he would ever need, everything he would ever want.

So in reply, he just pulled Fabrizio even closer, and kissed him again. He was sure that would be clear enough.

 


End file.
